Path In Between

One winter morning, when I opened the curtain, I saw that it had just snowed. Whole things from the window were colored white. I could see ‘a small doghouse without the dog’ was also covered in snow. Three years have almost passed since my father had departed. It’s the first time we have had snow since then. While staring at the snow falling, I remembered a scene when he opened the entrance door to take a walk with the dog wagging its tail on such a snowy day. Once again I tried to see the dog, but I couldn’t.

According to the radio, it would snow till midnight. I put my down jacket on, and placed my half-frame camera into its pocket, and went out alone. “How was he during the walk?” I just tried to imagine the details. But with my poor relationship with him, it’s a tall order to portray.

I don’t remember how often, but I have walked many times to trace the path they had been through, knowing I might not understand. I really hoped such a day would come.